


The Desert demands blood

by Scarlet_Cross



Series: Written in the Sand [1]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, If you squint you can see TØP and Fall out boy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, but it takes place before the music videos, dangers days au, intentional bleeding, intentional cutting, reference to minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Cross/pseuds/Scarlet_Cross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desert is brutal, it gives no second chances. It demands respect, sacrifice, and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"A desert is a place without expectation."_

_~Nadine Gordimer_

He remembered the city vaguely. It was where he had been born and spent his early childhood. Fuzzy outlines of tall, fat buildings with lots of windows and squat stores sandwiched inbetween them occasionally. The rumble of Drac cars patrolling the streets after curfew and clicking bicycle chains from those sneaking off under the Drac’s noses. More than anything he remember the shades of gray, the blinding whites under the setting desert sun, and the inescapable beige lurking in every building.

He remembered his house. It was painted gray like the rest of the city, but the inner walls told a different story. Their mother kept a secret from the rest of the world. Locked in the basement were walls of murals, so bright and colorful he could remember his mouth watering at the shades and different pigments. She smiled and laughed with a few colors smudged on her face, when she stood in the basement teach him and his older brother, Gerard, how to paint. Mikey was too young to really practice the art himself but he sat and stared for hours at his mother and brother’s art in that basement.

He remembered the rushed tones and forced smile the night his mother woke him and said they needed to leave. Now. Gerard was already packed with a few personal items by the time he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes with small, fat hands. Gerard moved with determination to start packing a few of his things as their mother coaxed him into a pair of pants and a coat. On the way out of the city, she held Mikey close to her chest with one arm and Gerard’s hand with the other. They sunk through the shadows in between street lamps and hugged the walls of allies when a patrol car passed.

The sun was just beginning to rise when they reached the edge of the city. It painted the Desert sand a warm gold and the jagged mountains to the North a soft bronze. The city behind them looked like the washed bone of a long dead, desert carcass. They traveled quickly after that, no longer needing to sneak around but now seeking shelter from the brutal heat. His mother had to put him down to walk on his own, he held Gerard’s hand as they all tracked towards the Northern mountains.

But the Desert is brutal, it gives no second chances. It demands respect, sacrifice, and blood. When they reached a long dry ravine, it took what it demanded.

Mikey and Gerard had made their way down the winding trail with little difficulty, their small bodies and nimble feet easily navigated across the loose rocks and thin ledges. An exhausted, dehydrated adult had much more difficulty. The will of the Desert needed to do little for her the make a fatal mistake.

Gerard didn’t let him look. He heard her let out a single scream of surprise as she fell behind them. Gerard grabbed his shoulders and held him to his chest to keep him from looking.

At the bottom of the ravine Gerard dragged him away from where he know his mother’s body would lay. They managed to find a few shallow caves where the walls were, miraculously, slick with cool water. They camped there for a few days living off lizards too curious for their own good and collecting the water slowly from the cave walls. Without their mother to guide them they didn’t know what to do, where to go. Gerard knew they left the city for a reason and he insisted they not go back.

After a week Mikey was hungry and cranky when Gerard told him to be quite. He, in return, fussed loudly. Gerard lept up and roughly held his hand to his brother’s face and tried to scoot them to the back of the too shallow cave. Mikey fought back hard, screaming it was too hot, he shoved Gerard off his and stormed out of the cave. He promptly ran into a tall man dressed in bright colors like his basement walls. A mask covered in strange marking covered his upper face and startled Mikey into walking back until he inevitable tripped on a stray rock. The man pulled a long knife out of his green, woven belt and pointed it a MIkey. Gerard came running out of the cave and slipped in between Mikey and the man.

“Please,” he cried “We’re sorry. We just didn’t know where to go. Our Mom…” If they hadn’t been so dehydrated his might have cried.

The man began to lower the knife. “The woman, on the other side of the ravine?”

Mikey answered, “Yes, that’s her.”

“We came from the city,” Gerard started “there was trouble and she snuck us out but-”

“Say no more child. Do you know where it was she was take you? I can help you finish the journey.” The man slipped his mask off to expose a warm smile that matched his brown skin and eyes.

Mikey looked to Gerard and they both shook their heads “No,” at the same time.

“I can take you back to my people,” The man offered.  

Mikey looked to Gerard, letting his brother answer for both of them. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Gerard knelt down to help Mikey up and the man watched as Mikey brushed some of the lingering dirt from his clothes. Clothes still too white and clean from the city.

“You may stay with my people, but we are not like the city dwellers. My people wear color, and if you wish to come, the first must be your own.”

He flipped the knife he had earlier pointed at Mikey in his palm so the hilt face the two boys. he offered it first to Gerard who took it hesitantly. Mikey looked from the knife to his bland city clothes caked in dust. The man had many vivid colors on, blues brighter than the sky, the golden yellow of the sand, green like the prickly plans littered across the dry soil, and red like blood. Red like blood. Mikey suddenly knew what he man ment. He gently took the knife from his brother’s hand and dragged the tip across the meaty heel of his palm. Blood blossomed to the surface as he handed it back to Gerard who too seemed to realize what they were being asked. When a few rivulets of blood had pooled in the shallow graze Mikey wiped it across his shoulder leaving bright smear of red on the grungy white. Gerard did the same, wipe the blood on the front of his pants.

The man smiled again as Gerard handed him back that knife. “Come on my boys, camp is a half day's ride North.”

He lead them back to a big bike that roared to life like the Drac cars. The warm Desert winds caressed Mikey’s face as he clung to Gerard’s torso and they sped towards the bronze mountains.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs and gleams..."_

_~Antoine de Saint-Exupery_

“Why do you do that?” Gerard asked his friend Ray.

Ray, Mikey, and Gerard had all been sitting in the shade of the skeletal remains of a tree that had their bright laundry hanging on it dry. Mikey was reading a book that had a velvety green cover and Gerard and Ray were laying on their back gazing up at a rare, cloudy sky.

“Do what?” Ray turned onto his side so he could look at Gerard.

“You do it all the time, you prick your finger and let it drip into the dirt.” Gerard sat up to lean back on the tree next to Mikey.

Miket put down his book, “Yeah, we’ve been here three years and you’ve been doing it since we met you.”

“The Desert demands blood,” Ray said nonchalantly. He wove the needle he had earlier used to prick his pinky finger into the collar of his blue shirt. He let a drop or two of his blood fall to the ground before stick it in his mouth to clean it. “Whenever you pray you're supposed to offer blood to the Desert after.”

Mikey and Gerard looked at each other. “What did you just pray for?” the older one questioned.

“Rain, I figured since it was already cloudy it wouldn’t be that hard to make it rain.” Ray sucked on his finger once more. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s kinda weird,” Mikey blurted out.

Gerard lightly smacked him on the shoulder for being so blunt. “Mikely just means no one did anything like that in the city.”

“Really?” Ray sat up so he could be the same height as the other boys. “What did you do in the city?”

“Boys!” A high pitched, sing song voice called from the bronze valley below them.

“Yes Mom?” Ray called back.

“Yes Mrs. Violet?” Gerard and Mikey yelled right after.

“It’s dinner time, but will you bring that laundry in if it’s dry?” her voice echoed faintly across the jagged mountain cliffs surrounding them.

“Yes ma’am!” They all chimed.

The boys rushed around in a frenzy collecting the multi colored clothing items. Mikey scampered up the dry branches to retrieve the higher placed items while Gerard and Ray stuffed some in a bag Gerard had brought to carry snacks earlier. After they had gotten all the clothing articles shoved away or were wearing what couldn’t fit in the bag, they made for the edge of the cliff the tree sat on. It was only a small climb down, barely ten feet, but they all manage to get the reddish, rocky dust of the cliff into their hair and all over their faces. Ray headed over to his mom and handed her the bag of clothing.

“Thank you,” she noticed the caught in his hair making it look like cotton candy and she smiled. She ran her hand through it and ruffled it up, “Your father is by the fire with dinner.”

The fire was especially big tonight since the weather was turning colder. There were many people and families sitting around the fire and the growing twilight made it hard to find Ray’s dad. Eventually what lead them to him the happy laugh of a baby. Ray’s father, Amond, and baby sister, Grace, were around the the fringes of the fire sharing bits of food with other members of their tribe.

“Ah boys, we saved some food for you,” Amond said.

Ray took that as his cue to take Grace from him. He sat down, bouncing his little sister on his lap making he give of more happy giggles. Amond stood and crouched over the fire to retrieve the remnants of some charred meat. Gerard and Mikey immediately started picking the flesh off the small creatures. Gerard stood to retrieve a water skin from Amond. He took a swig and handed it to Mikey. The then took Grace from Ray so the other boy could eat as well.

“You never did tell me, what did you do in the city?” Ray asked after he had finished eating.

Mikey attempted to clean the grease off his face by wiping it with the back of his hand but all it did was smear it further. “We didn’t pray.”

“Well some people did,” Gerard corrected, “our family didn’t though. But the people who did usually went into these big white buildings to do it.”

“A building? Why would you have to go inside to pray? What were they like inside?”

Grace let out a small yawn, her eyelids beginning to droop. Gerard changed from holding her on his knee to wrapping his arms around her so she could snuggle into him.

“I don’t know, we never went into one.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Amond asked, he was just returning from speaking with other adults.

“Mikey and Gerard were telling me about how they pray in the city,” Ray looked over to the brothers to fill in the rest.

“People went into big buildings to pray or they didn’t pray at all,” Mikey recited Gerard’s earlier information.

Amond popped an eye brow. “It’s been three years since I found you boys in that ravine but you both still surprise me with your strange city.”

“But I still don’t understand what you said earlier Ray. You said ‘The Desert demands blood’ what does that mean?” Gerard could feel the soft even breaths of a sleeping Grace in his arms as he spoke.

Amond let his usual good-natured smile slid off his face. “Garard, that Desert is a living thing. We are privileged to live with Her. We must show her our respect.”

A flash of light followed by crack of thunder across the Desert jolted Grace awake. She began to cry, upset she had been woken from her sleep. Amond stretched out his arms offering to take her from Gerard. He carefully handed her over back to her father.

“Come on boys, there will be rain and we should not want to get caught in it.” Amond began walking with Grace back the way the boys had come, most likely to find his wife.

Gerard looked over to Ray to catch him smiling and fingering the edge of his shirt collar.

“Can I borrow your needle?” Gerard asked when another strike of lighting glinted off the shiny metal.

Ray pulled it from the fabric of his shirt and handed it to his friend. Gerard closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cool, wet air of the rare storm wash over his face. He pricked his thumb and squeeze a few drops of red blood out onto the desert sand below. He handed the thin bit of metal back to his friend as the trio started walking after Amond.

“What did you pray for?” Mikey asked, his voice almost drowned out by the wind whipping through the mountain valley they were camped in.

“I want to be a Killjoy.”

Gerard looked back at the few people still around the fire. Their clothes the most beautiful and vibrant of the whole tribe. Most of their faces covered in vividly colored half masks or hanging around their necks or foreheads ready to he put on. Some of them with hair dyed unnatural colors or symbols painted on their faces with charcoal or paint. They were the Killjoys, the warriors of their tribe.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"The desert has its holiness of silence, the crowd its holiness of conversation."_

_~Walter Elliot_

They had scraped and scrapped for what felt like ages but it was totally worth it. Gerard, Mikey, and Ray looked on with pride as Amond inspected their handy work. His dark hands slid gingerly from the canvas covered seat to the handle bars, across the saddle bags Mikey had carefully sewn together from desert snake leather. They wandered down to the engine, blowing a thin layer of ever present dust off. He checked various motor parts, seeing if they would wobble or if there were any cracks. Once he seemed satisfied with the motor he moved to run is long fingers over the frame of the bike. It had originally had a fracture down one of the main supports but Gerard and Ray had spent countless hours binding it back together. Amond stood, pleased with the boys handy work.

“It looks very good boys,” Amond said, his smile lighting up the warm hazel of his eyes.

With his seal of approval all three of them pounced on the bike. Ray sat up front, pressed up against the handlebars and fumbling to jam the key in the ignition. Mikey climbed on the very back, clinging to Gerard who was sandwiched in the middle. They all hung on for dear life as the key in Ray’s hand finally found its destination and their motorcycle roared to life and Ray hit the gas. Gerard could faintly make out the sound of Amond’s laughter before it was whipped away as they sped out into the Desert for a joy ride.

The gritty sand flew up from the ground and stug on Gerard’s cheeks. He wondered how Ray could stand it, being in the front of the bike with nothing to block the harsh Desert wind. He braced himself to look forward to make sure Ray wasn't simply driving blind, when he saw the deep blue mask covering Ray’s upper face. He scolded himself silently and risked a quick release of one arm to pull up his own mask, yellow like a cactus flower, from around his neck. A moment after he finished he felt one of Mikey’s arms release, most likely to do the same with his red mask. At least he wasn’t the only one who forgot.

They road for a long time, Ray taking them on a large circuit he knew to be a Killjoy patrol rout. They went South until the steep cliff rigids turned into rocky hills and the city Mikey and Gerard had once lived in could be on the horizon like a mirage. It stuck up like the half buried bones of animals the Desert claimed back to herself.

Gerard could feel Mikey keep trying to scoot forward closer to him on the bike seat, trying to get away from the edge. It wasn’t something the boys denied, the three of them could barely fit on the one bike. It was strange, they weren’t men yet, not enough muscle on their bone or shoulder broad enough to really feel they deserved the title. But at the same time too lanky and tall and lacking the round featured to be children. Amond assured them over and over, it didn’t matter their age; they wore the masks of Killjoys and defend their tribe as all others did. The Desert would respect them as they did Her.

Eventually Ray brought the bike to a slow stop, rolling off the thin path with the excess momentum. The sun was just beginning to peak in the sky; it had been climbing up when they left.

“The bike needs to cool down,” Ray stated as they all climbed off. “If I’m remembering correctly, there should be a small spring in one of those caves.” He guided the bike into the shade, leaning it against a boulder of a larger rocky hill.

The trio set off, Ray leading the way, to scout for water. Mikey was the first to smell it. The wet, earthy scent of damp sandy soil was irresistible to a Desert dweller. It also meant a sure chance of water. Laughing at one of Ray’s jokes the three entered the cave, sound bouncing off the walls and carelessly kicking of sand with their boots. The burr of gray caught them all off guard as it tackled Gerard. With his back pinned to the ground and the face of a rabid human with a  mop of black hair loomed over him, the stranger's hands wrapped firmly around his neck. He gasped and sputtered for only a moment before Mikey and Ray pulled the person off him. It took both of them, Ray with his knees lodged into his chest and Mikey sitting on his legs, to hold him down. He still thrashed around, getting the damp earth matted into his hair.

“Please,” he cried with Ray’s knife pressed to his throat, “just kill me quickly. I don’t want to be left to die out here.” Actual tears rolled down his cheeks as his kicks and struggles became weaker.

Mikey was the first to loosen his grip on the stranger. “Look, we’re not gonna hurt you.” He removed his weight for the boy’s body as well.

“Like hell we’re not! Mikey you saw him, he tried to kill Gerard,” Ray snarled.

“No, listen to… Mikey,” Gerard croaked out. He had gathered enough air back into his lungs to speak but it still felt like needles ripping his throat apart. “Ray look at… him. He has... city clothes on.”

For the first time Ray inched his knife away and looked over the kid’s clothes. They were dusted gray, nothing like any of the colors that any Desert tribe would wear. It was also obvious from the crisp folds and well sewn hems these clothes had been made by a machine. Ray pulled his knife away and lifted his weight freeing the black haired boy. He scrambled away from the three backing himself against the wall and folded himself up into a ball.

“What city are you from?” Gerard asked after a beat of uncomfortable silence.

“Lampton,” He let out in a shaky voice.

“That’s a 100 day’s travel from here,” Ray said accusingly.

He sucked in a few quick breaths before blurting out all at once, “My district in the city had become overcrowded so BLI said a few dozen family were getting moved to Battery City since they were beginning to become under populated. But on the way here our trucks got… attacked.”

“By who?” It was Mikey who asked.

The boy looked across the cave, his eyes suddenly no longer scared but dark as the winter sky. “You desert people.” His voice dropping lower with mixed and rage and sadness.

The trio looked from on to the other, all asking the same question with their faces.

“It wasn’t our tribe,” Gerard assured him.

“If it was we would have known, hell we would have been there,” Ray backed him up.

“What did the attacker look like? What colors were they wearing? Did they have masks or face paint?” Mikey chimed.

The boy seemed to think for a moment. “Brown, most of them had brown robes. And they had face paint. Black lines stretching out from their mouths and yellow paste everywhere else.”

“Scarecrows,” Gerard breathed.

“Their territory is miles South of the city, what the hell are they doing up here?” Mikey threw the question out to one one in particular.

“We need to tell my dad about this,” Ray’s calm manner had quickly slid into panic with the other two. All three Killjoys made for the cave’s entrance to go back to the bike.

“Wait, what? You’re leaving me?” He asked, still scrunched up against the back of the cave.

Gerard looked from his friends to the stranger and back again, “We can’t leave him guys,” He kept going, cutting off Ray’s protest before they could start. “He could tell us more about what he saw. What direction the Scarecrows came from, how many there were.”

“Fine, you two stay here with him. I’ll take the bike back to get the others.” And with that Ray set off to retrieve the bike.

He revved it to life just like before. Gerard entertained the brief thought Ray must be glad to finally have enough room. He bike kicked up a trail of sand as Ray headed back up North. If he hurried he would probably make it back before the sun set and the others would arrive before dawn.

Gerard saw Mikey out of the corner of his eye pull one of his small knives from his belt and nick the outer edge of his pinky finger, letting the blood drop onto the Desert floor. Mikey went back in the cave shortly after. Gerard pulled a knife from his own belt and eyed the blade. He’d seen Scarecrows before, from a distance, and he didn’t care to see them up close. He dragged the sharp end of the blade on the meaty heel of his palm, hissing only slightly at the pain. Don’t let them come, he thought as his blood hit the dirt only a few feet from Mikey’s.

Gerard turned away from the Desert landscape to head back in the cave; Mikey already leaning up against a wall, eyeing the stranger. The two settled in, plopping down on the cooled sand within the cave. Mikey took off his pack pulling out two nearly empty water skins. He handed one to Gerard and they both finished them off before Mikey set them under the slow drip of the cave spring. Gerard grabbed Mikey’s  bag and pulled out two small canvas pouches and pulled the string keeping them closed to open one. There was a few strips of dried lizard in it. He grabbed one and popped it in his mouth and started chewing. He tossed the other pouch to the boy across the cave.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked, popping another bit of lizard in his mouth.

“On the transport truck. I think that was a week ago, but I really don't remember.” He said pawing at the little bag, almost unsure if he should open it.

“Damn it Gerard, that was the roots,” Mikey complained, taking a strip of meat from the pouch in Gerard’s hand.

“I know, they’re good on the stomach when you haven’t eaten in awhile.” Gerard pulled his water skin from under the drip. Too impatient to wait for it to be full he downed the half that had already collected. “Go on and eat.” He directed at the boy.

Timidly the boy opened the bag. He dug out one of the smaller roots, only the size of a pinkey, and nibbled on the end. He face contorted in disgust.

Mikey let out a laugh, “I they’re pretty gross at first, I know. I think I gagged so hard I almost threw up the rest of my dinner the first time I tried them. They’re pretty good when you get used to them though.”

The boy let out a timid smile and kept on nibbling.

“By the way, kid, what’s your name?” Gerard asked.

“I’m not a kid,” he spat out, along with a bit of root. “I’m 15.”

Gerard was shocked, this pale mess of lanky limbs was only a year younger than Mikey. He seemed so small, so innocent, so soft. But that’s just what the city does to you. It keeps you weak so you can’t fight back.

“Well sorryyyy,” Mikey mocked. “but what is your name? other wise we’re gonna keep calling you kid.”

“Frank,” He said with a roll of his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_"What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well."_

_~Antonine de Saint-Exupery_

“You’re leaving?” Ray heard the soft voice of his little sister coming from behind him. Damnit. He forgot for send her back to their parent’s tent last night.

“Hey my little Gracie,” Ray purred, turning back around to see her swaddled up in the blanks of his bed. “We’re just going for a short ride.”

“Can I come?” she asked, sitting up and running her eyes with her chubby, tan hands.

“Ray come on, sun’s coming up. We gotta go,” Gerard stuck his head into the doorway of the tent to find his friend.

“You’re gonna leave me because I’m too little, aren't you?” Grace pouted.

“Of course not sweetie,” Gerard walked into the tent and knelt down next to Grace. “We need you to be our spy,” He brushed a strand of frizzy brown hair out of her face and flashed a look at Ray signalling him to play along. “We’re going on a super secret Killjoy mission.”

“That’s right,” Ray chimed in. “I need you to cover for us if anyone asks where we are.”

Grace’s face lit up at her new task. “Ok, I’ll be the best spy ever!”

“Thanks Gracie, now you need to go back to bed,” Ray directed. “We don’t want Mom and Dad thinking you’re spying for us.”

Without another word Grace fell back onto the pad of blankets and snuggled up again. Gerard and Ray shared a smile before heading outside. Mikey and Frank were already waiting next to the two bikes. Mikey was holding the first bike he, Ray, and Gerard had built. Even after a few years it was still in pretty good shape. Frank supported the second bike, a white plastic frame covered in Gerard’s art work. A few months ago they had spent weeks scoping out the city and planning the heist. It had gone off flawlessly, they had nabbed the motor bike from right under the Dracs noses.

“What took you guy’s so long?” Frank complained.

“Grace was up so we had to put her back to bed.” Ray replied, taking the bike from Frank and walking it towards the exit of the valley their tribe was currently camped in.

“She’s supposed to be our spy, so be ready for a full report when we get back.” Gerard added.

Once they had put enough distance between them and camp the boys paired up, coaxed the bikes to life, and sped off in the growing morning light. Gerard followed Ray and Mikey towards the city, Frank clinging to his torso behind him. He didn’t have to look down to know Franks knuckles would be white with strain. Gerard knew motorcycle rides were not Frank’s favorite thing. The uneven terrain and frequent swift turns made his stomach all kinds of queasy. He was still somewhat used to the soft, slow pace of the city since he’d only been with them a few years.

They had told Grace their mission was secret but in reality it wasn’t.The tattered remains and carnage of the convoy Frank’s city group had been on were enough to terrify the whole tribe. After they had found Frank there had been a consensus among the tribe that they needed to more thoroughly scout their territory and develop more friendly relationships with neighboring tribes. It was common knowledge of the Desert and her people that the Scarecrows were rogues, violent and deeply immersed in their own traditions with little regard for outsiders. But the magnitude at which they had struck the convoy showed strength and numbers not previously imagined.

They had spent the last two years venturing out of their territory, mapping the land and the different people who claimed territories. It had been mostly successful, they’d made a handful of allies; extending an olive branch and warning them about the Scarecrows. They’d also managed to establish a few danger zones, places the Crows tended to gather and the exact perimeter around the city the Dracs patrolled.

Now they were headed to establish a friendship with the Pilots. A small group that lived about three days East of camp in the river carved walls of a canyon. They had bumped into the tribe once before, on the tale end of a mapping trip when supplies were running low. Surprisingly, they were exceedingly kind, taking the Killjoys in for a few days and restocking supplies. They had even given Frank a few of their strange skin makings. Ink stuck with small pins just under the skin in beautiful designs. These were a common trait of their people, like the Killjoy masks the boys wore.

...

“Killjoys!” One of the Pilots called as the four finally neared the canyon, ending their three day ride.

A swarm of people appeared from the surrounding Desert to greet the Killjoys. Both Ray and Gerard brought the bikes to a gradual stop in front of the gathering crowd and all four dismounted to greet them.

“Frank!” Someone cried out from behind Gerard. He turned to see Frank being pulled into a hung by a familiar face.

“Tyler,” Frank greeted after he had been released from the hug. Tyler had been the one to give Frank his ink markings the first time they had met the Pilots.

“Where’s Josh?” Gerard asked after he had made his way through the crowd.

“Fishing, he’ll be back soon. How have you guys been?” Tyler clapped Gerard on the back with unexpected force almost vaulting him forward.

“Good, no sign of the Crow’s recently,” Gerard answered.

Tyler looked over to Frank asking the same question without needing words. “Same, I’ve been good, and the ink healed well.”

“Alright,” Tyler patted Gerard again, but this time with significantly less force. “But I know you guys didn't come just for small talk. When Josh gets back we’ll meet in the Main Hall to talk about what you came for.”

“Alright man, sounds like a plan,” Frank concluded.

Tyler grinned, “Awesome.”

After that Tyler seemed to dissipate into the crowd as quickly as he appeared. Gerard scanned the crowd looking for Mikey and Ray. He spotted them far to his right and waded through the mass of bodies to them, stopping occasionally the chat with any of the Pilots who approached him. He relayed the information Tyler had given him when he finally made it over to them. They both nodded a promised to meet up in the Main Hall as Tyler had instructed.

The four fell away from each other soon after. Allowing the familiar strangers to pull them in different directions, pick up unique conversations, and laugh at new jokes. Gerard found himself being pulled away from the crowd entirely by a small pack of children. They dragged him with hot, chubby hands into one of the adobe structures building into the canyon walls the Pilots lived in. They picked and pulled at his clothes, leather where theirs was cloth, and they passed his mask around, each taking a turn trying it on.

“You’re hair is pretty,” One little girl cooed.

Gerard ran one hand through his greasy, sandy locks. They were most likely disheveled from the ride in. He thought for a moment what the girl could be talking about when he remembered he had dyed it a bright red a few days before leaving.

“You like red?” he asked.

The girl nodded, “It’s my favorite.”

He smiled as a long, low tone rumbled through the canyon. At the noise the kids quickly lost interest in him and ran for the door of the hut. Gerard followed, seeing a handful of small boats paddling upstream on the river far below. The children all ran off, finding different narrow paths to carry them to the bottom of the canyon to meet the returning fishermen. He turned and noticed the same girl who had complimented his hair was still standing next to him.

“Can I ask a favor?” He said to the girl, kneeling down to her height.

She nodded “yes” in response.

“Will you lead me to the Main Hall?”

She nodded again and took Gerard’s hand. She lead them down a series of switchback trails and through a few small tunnels until they were halfway down the canyon. Gerard could hear the rush of the river below and it made his stomach churn. The thought of falling into the current and being swept away made him eager to enter the Main Hall the girl had lead him to.

The Main Hall was a large cave worn into the wall of the canyon. It’s walls were smooth to the touch, much like the shallow wind blown ones common in their mountains. But unlike their familiar caves the main hall was deep, and wide; the water of the river having carved it many years ago. Lining the walls of the cave were several dozen stands, people trading and sharing wears, stories, and food. In the center was a crowd, almost as big as their welcoming party, and he spied Mikey, Frank, and Ray on the edge. As he walked closer to them he also noticed they were talking with Tyler and Josh.

“Hey, Gerard,” Josh greeted as Gerard neared the group.

Gerard extended a hand for Josh to shake, “Good to see you again. How’d this trip go?”

Josh looked over his shoulder and Gerard followed his gaze. The crowd behind them had gathered around several nets full of fish, big and small, as well as different types of plants Gerard didn't have names for. Everyone was picking things they wanted, adults searching through the vegetation, children trying to pick of fish twice their size, and parents scolding their kids for being greedy.

“I’d say it went well,” Josh concluded.

“One of the best trips in a while,” Tyler agreed.

“But you didn’t come all this way to talk about fishing,” Josh prompted.

“You’re right,” Ray started. “Last time we met it was an accident. We’ve been mapping out the Desert for the last two years.” He pulled out folded sheet of paper out of his jacket and handed it to Tyler. The paper crackled as Tyler opened it to examine the map. “That’s what we have so far, and it’s not just our group. There are a few other teams in our tribe that have been scouting like us. This is where we’re currently camped and we claim this area as our territory,” Ray pointed to a specific valley in the mountains, then circled around the whole mountain area area.

“And you’re over here,” Mikey added, tapping a finger to a point on the far right of the map.

The six of them spent the next hour going over the map. The Killjoys outlined all of the tribes they, or other scouting groups, had encountered and what territory they claimed. Josh and Tyler interjected every so often to ask questions or make comments. They spent more time explaining the city. The Pilots lived much too far away from the city to ever feel the impacts of BLI or for BLI to even both with them, but still they went into great detail to satisfy the Pilots’ curiosity.

“We think they migrate, but we haven’t found any sort of routine,” Ray confessed when they finally got to the topic Scarecrows. “They occupy a large area, open Desert sometimes overlapping other tribes claims.” His fingers circled an area, at least twice the size of any other claim. It started just North of the city and stopped more than two week’s travel by foot of the Pilots’ land and stretched out to lick the sides of the Killjoy’s mountains and pitter off on the edge of an empty expanse of a sand sea. “Those overlaps are usually where the most attacks are seen.”

“But we’ve heard of their attacks as far South as Young Blood territory,” Mikey added and gestured to the region below the city.

“Have they ever bothered you? Any attacks on your people?” Gerard directed the question at Tyler and Josh.

They both shared a glance before Tyler responded, “No, I can’t recall any attacks like you’ve described. In fact you’re the first new people we’ve encountered in almost a generation.”

“Good,” Frank said, his tone with an undercurrent of darkness.

“You can keep the map,” Ray drew away from the table the group had migrated to. “It’s our gift to you.”

“We can’t possibly accept,” Tyler said quickly. “You’ve worked too hard on this and we wouldn't have nearly as much use of it as you would.” He folded the paper up and attempted to hand it back toward them.

“No, no please keep it,” Gerard shoved it back. “We have a few more already made and can always copy down new ones.” Gerard pulled an identical piece of folded paper from his own jacket to emphasize the point.

“Alright,” Tyler brought the paper back to himself and Josh. “Did you guys get a chance to try some fried fish last time you were here?” A wide smile stretching across his face.

“No,” Ray answered for all of them.

“Well I’ll have to cook you up some,” Josh grabbed an immense fish from the remaining lot in the center of the Hall.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Once again there was the desert, and that only."  
_

_~Stephen King_

They only stayed one more day after that initial one. Frank got a few more ink markings in their short stay and had convinced Mikey to get one as well. Ray had spent more time with Tyler going into further detail of the map, other tribes, and about the Scarecrows. Gerard had spent most of his time surrounded by the group of children who had first swarmed him when they got there. He woke up each morning with braids in his hair and really didn’t mind.

The return trip didn’t seem to take nearly as long as their departure from the mountains. The soft winds that always blew through the mountain valleys was a welcome change from the hot, sand spit wind travel had provided. But the normally fresh wind was tainted. Smoke and charred meat hung on the breeze in an alarmingly heavy concentration. The Killjoys raced on their bikes through the valley, the engines’ protests ringing off the cliff walls like thunder.

Gerard fell his soul drop at the sight that greeted them. Smoldering piles strewn across camp and thin rivers of blood, caked and drying, in the pack Desert floor. He got off the bike so fast it toppled over, smacking with a dull thud on the earth, and moments later he heard Ray and Mikey’s bike do the same. None of them had words. They all darted into different directions.

Mikey sprinted for the largest pile of blacken remains. The bones he uncovered were still warm from the fire they had been tossed into. They were big, small, broken, whole, adult and child; all blackened and scarred. Surrounding the edges were a few scraps of color: red, green, yellow, and blue. Tattered pieces of fabric and half melted masks. He gathered them all close to his chest.

Frank ran to the field of smaller scorch marks in the earth. There were half burnt toys and scattered bones. They were their homes, ransacked and torched. He found his way to the pile of ash that he thought had belonged to him and Mikey. Sifting through the charcoal there was nothing distinguishable left, only an absence of bones.

Gerard ran aimlessly through the wreckage, looking for something, anything. He found them by a small blackened body Gerard forced himself not to think about. They were tracks leading away from camp, and the people who made them had obviously been at a leisurely pace. He followed them until he found a crude spear, little more than a knife tied to the end of a metal pole. The knife on the end was coated in blood.

Ray raced towards a low cliff. They moved frequently but this valley was one spot their tribe had come to enough she would know the hiding places. He climbed the cliff to a cave nestled in a fault line in the stone.

“Grace!” He called into the cave, his body too large to venture in for himself.

There was no response.

He turned away from the cave and called again over the whole valley. He began to climb back down the cliff and heard her name echo off walls in the voices of the rest of the boys. He let go of the wall a few feet too high, eager to keep searching. His ankles stung and he collapsed to the ground, unable to support his own weight. Eyes at ground level he saw a small bit of curly, brown hair poking out from the edge of another crevice in the cliff.

“Grace,” Ray whispered, “It’s me, your brother.”

It took nearly an hour but he managed to coax her to come out of the cave. Her hair was singed off in places and her face had bits of spattered blood and dirty tear tracks. He hugged her close to his body as she wept, sobs too big for her little body.

…

“It was Scarecrows,” Gerard stated.

He threw the weapon he had found into the dirt in front of his friends. It seemed redundant to even say it but they all still winced hearing it. Ray felt Grace’s grip around his leg tighten. Earlier she told her story of how she had hid before most of the carnage happened, but still heard everything. Ever scream of terror, every Scarecrow battle cry, the popping and crackling of the fires burning all night and into the next day.  They all felt hollow, unknowing what to do, how to live in the Desert so alone.

“We’ve still got the bikes,” Frank remarked.

“But where do we go?” Mikey’s voice was devoid of emotion.

“There’s that one building we found, the old city diner. It’s on the edge of Drac patrols, but half a day away from Crow territory.” Ray said.

“Alright, let’s go there for now. Dracs are easy enough to deal with and…” Gerard let the sentence trail off, deciding to take it in a different direction, “maybe we can go to the Young Bloods. They offered us protection after the Crows attacked them.”

They all mumbled in agreement and made their way to the bikes. Gerard slipped his mask over his face, the yellow suddenly feeling too happy, and mounted the bike. He felt Frank get on soon after and wrap his arms around Gerard’s torso. He looked over and saw Ray already on the other bike and Grace looking back at the remnants of camp. He saw he pull a little piece of metal from her hair and prick the palm of her hand, letting the blood fall to the Desert floor. Mikey helped her up on to the bike soon after, sandwiching her in between him and Ray to make sure she didn’t fall.

He thought for a moment of cutting one of his own fingers in offering to the Desert like Grace had, but the memory of his whole tribe’s blood soaking into the dirt stopped him.


End file.
